


Darkness

by wishicouldbeliamsfriend



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-23
Updated: 2014-05-23
Packaged: 2018-01-26 04:43:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1675112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wishicouldbeliamsfriend/pseuds/wishicouldbeliamsfriend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Officer Ryder responds to a domestic abuse callout and meets the famous Liam Payne.</p>
<p>**Work in progress, feedback very welcome!**</p>
            </blockquote>





	Darkness

“999, which service do you require?” There was a degree of detachment evident in the way she spoke, typical of operators with years of practice. The caller let out a shaky breath before she replied; her voice full of anxiety. “Uh, police.”

“Hold, please.” There was a muted click as the call transferred to the police control room, based in the large town of Harlow near Heathrow airport. It was the regional control room for the whole of south west London. Another voice came on the line, much more gruff and to the point. “Police emergency, what’s the address of the incident?”

“Hi. I don’t know if this is something you need to deal with but I didn’t know what else to do…” the caller trailed off nervously. You could almost hear the dispatcher rolling their eyes as they replied, just how many times they have heard that before?

“Just explain what’s happening and I’ll take it from there.” They said smoothly.

“Right. Of course. Well it’s my neighbours - I’m 126 so they must be 128. Sorry 128 Sanbourne Drive, in London. They’ve been arguing as usual but I just heard someone cry out and a loud thud, I’m worried that he’s gotten physical. I don’t know what to do.” The caller sounded very concerned, enough to make a call they were clearly not comfortable placing.

“Okay, you did the right thing in calling. Hold the line for a moment.” The dispatcher tapped away on his computer, deploying the nearest unit to provide an immediate grade response. Then he notified the caller “Right, an officer is on the way and should arrive very soon. You may be asked to give a statement, please be available to answer your door.”

“Yes of course, thanks, bye.” The caller hastily hung up before she could be asked any more questions.

\---

“Control to 264.” The radio on my shoulder bleeped into life, startling me slightly. It had been a long, dull shift up to now, I think this was the third call of the whole evening. I stifled a yawn then took hold of the radio and pressed the call button with my thumb. “Go ahead for 264.” No doubt this would just be another report of ‘menacing youths’ on some street corner. Can’t everyone just leave these kids alone? They’re not harming anyone. I glanced at the LCD clock on the dash - one o’clock on a cold, rainy night in London. I love my job.

I was always impressed by how calm the staff in our control room seemed to be. It was probably frantic behind the scenes but over the radio they never seemed ruffled. Always cool and collected, almost bored actually. There could be a murder call and they’d have the same cool tone as a vandalism shout. Tonight was no different “264; we have a report of a domestic disturbance at 128 Sanbourne Drive – immediate response required, can you attend?”

I nodded (to nobody, I was alone in a deserted street) then checked in my mirrors for anything behind me before quickly spinning the car around to head in the direction of Sanbourne Drive. I flicked down the ‘999’ switch on the console and the street, which had been dark, suddenly blazed with blue light. The siren also kicked in with a wailing tone. It was sure to wake up everyone within half a mile, which gave me some sadistic pleasure. I floored the accelerator and the tires spun on wet leaves for a split second before jumping forward. I eased the BMW response vehicle through a gentle skid round the corner onto the main road, then got up to speed. The reported location was only a few minutes away, so with any luck I might witness the incident first hand. I pressed my radio button again “Control from 264, show me attending, arrival estimated at three minutes.”

The dispatcher acknowledged the message as I accelerated to fifty miles an hour. This was meant to be a thirty mile per hour road, but it was a quiet night with no traffic, and with the amount of blues I had on you could probably see me coming a mile away so I was happy to take the speed limit under advisement. I leaned forward a little, straining my eyes, trying to see each street name as far ahead as I could. It was difficult as the reflective paint on the signs burned brightly, picking up my lights. Within a minute though I saw Sanbourne Road, which I was sure led into Sanbourne Drive. I cut the siren noise during the turn into the residential road, there was no need for me to alert any suspects of my approach.

A sharp right a few hundred metres ahead took me into Sanbourne Drive itself, so I scanned the door numbers till I found the 120s. I couldn’t quite make out 128 but I didn’t have to, the yell that came from two houses up was a bit of a giveaway. I pulled over outside the house and grabbed my cap from the seat next to me, then jumped out and locked the car. I walked round the front of the car and crossed the pavement, my boots slapping on the wet ground. I called in my arrival over the radio before I entered the garden; “264 to control, arriving on scene – shouting heard, standby.”

There was a low brick wall which met a rusted iron gate at the foot of the garden. I pushed open as gently as I could, trying to avoid it creaking loudly. Then I jogged up the path to the front door. It was locked, so my usual tactic of quietly trying the handle didn’t work. I decided to go for the traditional method, and hammered on the door as loud as I could, yelling at the same time “Police! Open the door.”

Everything went quiet immediately and I relaxed a little, thinking it was all going to fizzle down now. That was a mistake. There was the unmistakeable sound of smashing glass and a cry for help. My heart leapt and I looked around the doorframe, trying to see a way in. Meanwhile I jabbed at my radio “Officer requires assistance, sounds of a struggle.” I considered grabbing the enforcer - a metal ram affectionately known as the ‘big red key’ - from the car and battering the wooden door down but I spotted a glass panel near the yale lock. I grabbed the baton from my belt and flicked it open, then shielded my eyes with my arm. I smashed the baton’s metal point down on the glass which shattered instantly, leaving jagged edges embedded in the wooden frame. I smashed those away then looked through, there was no sign of anyone. I carefully eased my arm through the hole and reached around to the right of it, grasping for the lock. I was slapping around hopelessly then my fingers brushed something metal and I immediately grabbed hold of it, twisting the knob and almost falling through the door as it swung open with me still leaning through it. I pulled away and rubbed at my cheek, I’d grazed it on the wood as the door fell open, it was stinging bad. I shook my head to clear my thoughts and brought my baton back up to my shoulder, getting my stance back.

After a deep breath I stepped into the front room and shouted automatically while I surveyed the scene “Police, stay where you are!” I saw two men - one on the left on the ground near the couch, curled up in a ball. He had brown hair but that was about all I could see of him. The other guy was tall and very well built, he had blonde hair and was holding what looked like the remains of a wine bottle he had smashed in two to create a jagged edge.

He was holding it above his head, startled by my presence – but before I had time to shout another warning he regained his senses and lined up to strike the victim. The adrenaline was coursing through me and I felt a surge of energy, lunging forward and swiping my baton down across his forearm, hard enough to make him drop the weapon and clutch at the injury. He turned to face me, fury etched into his face “You prick, you broke my arm!” These people do exaggerate, it would be a minor bone bruise at most. He squared up to me so I immediately grabbed the small can of CS spray from my belt. “Police officer with CS spray, get on the ground now!” I yelled as loud as I could, baton still slung over my shoulder ready to strike again if I had to. He ignored the warning. Big mistake.

As he lumbered towards me I pressed the button on the canister and a jet of CS caught him full in the face. Like clockwork he clutched at his face, his eyes streaming with tears and nose running everywhere. He didn’t stop though, still lashing out blindly - trying to hit someone, anyone. I stepped to his side carefully and landed a heavy blow to the back of his left leg, making him crumple to the ground in agony. I smirked slightly – I don’t normally revel in arrests like some officers but sometimes it’s nice to give a bully a taste of their own medicine. I pulled the rigid cuffs from my belt and latched one onto his nearest wrist, then he immediately started pulling away. I twisted the cuff slightly, making it dig into his flesh and he immediately stopped struggling. “Alright, alright, don’t break my arm.” He pleaded, still wiping at his eyes with his free hand. He gave me his other wrist with no resistance so I tightened them up, stacking his wrists above each other behind his back. As I double locked the cuffs to stop him tightening them I could feel the CS filling the room a bit more and found I was coughing myself. I looked round and saw the victim still curled up against the edge of the couch, knees drawn into his chest, peering over the tops of them at us. I shouted at him, trying to shake him into action “You need to get up mate. Open the windows, close all the doors and sit in another room, I’ll be back in a minute. Okay?”

He nodded and climbed to his feet as I tugged on the suspect’s arm and dragged him out of the house. “Name?” I asked quietly and he ignored me. I heard sirens closing fast and knew my colleagues would be here in seconds so I could hand him off to them. “Name!” I demanded. “David, David Arthur.” He grunted reluctantly. “Okay ‘David David Arthur’ you’re under arrest for breach of the peace, attempted assault and attempted assault on a police officer. You don’t have to say anything but it may harm your defence if you do not mention, when questioned, something you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.” The sirens cut off and a traffic car pulled up in the street, followed by another patrol unit, blocking the road and dazzling me with blue light. Assistance calls can mean anything from an overweight suspect to an officer being shot at so we tend to be overcautious in responding. I immediately grabbed my radio “264 to control, no further assistance required. One male arrested, will be transported to custody by…” I paused and nodded to the patrol officer as he approached. He mouthed his collar number to me. “by 236. No ambulance required at this time.”

Control acknowledged so I shoved David forward and the other officer grabbed hold of him. “Arrested by me a minute ago for assault, assault police and breach, he was gassed so give him a minute. Cheers mate.” The guy nodded and took him away, I heard him start the usual exposure drill. “You’ve been exposed to CS incapacitant spray, keep your eyes open; do not attempt to wash it off, and do not attempt to rub it off. The discomfort will wear off within ten to twenty minutes and usually there are no permanent effects.” He sat him down on the back doorway of the van while the air cleared his eyes out. I was trying to keep my own eyes open, they were stinging a bit from the CS. I waved the traffic officer over “Hi, you busy? Fancy taking a statement from the person who called it in?” I gestured to the next door over. He groaned but nodded and started up their path so I went back inside and closed the door behind me. The last shard of glass fell out of the door as it banged shut and I winced, I would need to get that fixed, but it could wait till we get to the station.

I wandered down the hall till I found the victim sat on a wooden dining chair in the kitchen, staring at the floor. “What’s your name?” I asked, still fighting the urge to rub my eyes. He looked up at me, eyes bleary “Liam.” I instantly felt a sense of familiarity, like I knew his face from somewhere. I racked my brain but I couldn’t place it, so I let it go. “Okay Liam, are you suffering any symptoms from the CS?” He shook his head no. “Okay - well I am, I don’t suppose you’ve got any milk I can have?” He raised an eyebrow but gestured to the fridge. I set my cap down on the table and walked over, opening the fridge and grabbing the milk. I leaned over the sink and poured a little over my eyes, face and hands, wiping them with some kitchen towel. I glanced over and saw Liam looking at me like I was mad. I smiled “It helps, don’t ask me why, lactose or something that breaks down the gas, I can’t remember.” He nodded, a weak smile playing on his face, but not his eyes. I returned the milk to the fridge and cleaned myself up before sitting down opposite him, pulling my notebook from my belt as I went. “Alright Liam, I’m PC Ryder. How are you feeling, physically I mean? Do you need an ambulance?”


End file.
